In a Word: FFVIII
by Fairady
Summary: A variety of drabbles. Warnings will be given per chapter.
1. Footsie

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Fluff because Seifer's just that type of a guy, a real asshole that you just want to slap the hell out of but can't because he's too sweet.

Notes: I've got about four het couples that I'll play the shipping game for. Quistis and Seifer are one of them.

Game Over  
by Fairady

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He knew it was bad when he started thinking her _feet_ were cute.

Feet were, in Seifer's opinion, the most hideous and useless part of the human body. They were alien pieces of flesh and blood whose only purpose was to smell. A prejudice almost entirely inspired by one of his first roommates, whose feet could rival the shower room at it's worst, but it's something he'd never really gotten over.

That's how he knows it's all over, because he's sitting on the floor with Quistis' feet in his lap and all he can think about it is how cute her little toe is. He's officially stupid with love and is only a few short moments away from sharing that fact with the rest of the world. Seifer knows it like he knows the sections of the SeeD Code of Conduct Xu used to force him to copy. Any minute now and he's going to say something disgustingly sappy, like how the arch of her feet are very elegant.

It isn't until Quistis looks up from her papers with a baffled expression that he realizes he's already said it. Seifer should probably say something to distract her, something to make her forget what he said, but he's a love sick fool and her small smile gives him enough reason to say all the stupid things that come to his mind.

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	2. Nicknames

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Extremely vague and implied shoujo-ai.

Notes: Drabble number four of 150 for a challenge in which I'm supposed to write about my livejournal interests.

Nicknames  
by Fairady

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Quisty.

Fujin rolls the name around in her mind trying to imagine how the word would taste. Her lips purse in a sour grimace. It s not to her liking at all, she can t imagine how anyone would think to apply that name to the woman before her. It s such a childish name. Something a pig-tailed child chomping on too much bubblegum should use.

She can excuse it from Selphie, the girl was hardly more than an overgrown child anyway. Zell is no better. Irvine is a complete flirt who seemed to think baby talk would earn him points, and it didn't help that with nearly any other woman it did. Seifer s justification is that he just wants to be an ass sometimes, or all the time. She's even be able to excuse Rinoa on the fact that she is overly impressionable and Selphie is a bad influence on everyone.

But Squall?

Commander or not there are just some things that shouldn't be done, or said, by certain people.

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	3. Squall

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Spoilers and speculation?

Notes: Another drabble written for the LJ interest challenge. I was looking at some screen caps of Squall and realized he looks a lot like Laguna but only when he smiles.

Squall  
by Fairady

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Mostly he's serious. Some might even say he's emotionless, but that's not quite it. True, as Commander of the SeeD detachment in Balamb Garden Squall can't afford to let himself get overly emotional, but to those who know him it's easy to see that Squall has attained that state without having to sacrifice his emotions. He's far too serious as a result, but that's just the way he is. The resemblance is clear in these frequent moments. It's a little painful to watch him and see the ghost of a dead woman looking back.

Very rarely he will lighten up. He might even laugh or, Hyne forbid, smile at times. It's a very rare event. Something that is only likely to be seen by Squall's odd but closely knit family, because only when he's among them does he feel safe enough to allow his emotions a little free reign. Mostly, it's Rinoa who will make him smile, and for a precious few seconds he'll actually look his own age. The resemblance isn't as clear in these moments, you can only see it if you ignore what he looks like and concentrate on his shape. The tilt of his eyes, the creases under them, and the insanely crooked tilt of his mouth. It's painful, in an entirely different way, to look at him and see your own face staring back at you.

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	4. Losing

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Spoilers and speculation?

Notes: Written for the LJ interest challenge. I like the stories about Seifer being controlled by Ultemicia as much as anyone, but sometimes he's just got to be evil.

Winners and Losers  
by Fairady

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They held a trial, insisted that he be given every fair chance available. Seifer had laughed at them, but they didn't give him a choice. People in high places either wanted his head on a silver platter, or they wanted him reformed and freed. The trial dragged on for two years as both sides fought over him.

It was a waste of time and money. Seifer already knew the outcome of it, and anyone that claimed to know him should have known it too. Just went to prove how few people really knew him the day he d shocked the world by refusing the deal offered for his life.

The Lady hadn't controlled his mind, and he wasn't sorry for a damn thing he d done. And no, Seifer wasn't going to lie about it just to appease the spineless masses.

History was written by the winners, and Seifer had known at the end he would always be remembered as the villain. There was no way to get around it, he would always be _that_ Seifer.

Not that he was looking to avoid it. Seifer was not going to let them smooth the facts over with pretty lies, and turn him into something to be pitied at best. He was damned if he was going to let them remember him as anything less than the man who d made the whole world shake in fear.

The day they executed him he made sure to smile for all the cameras.

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	5. Dance

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the chracters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Spoilers and incest-ish?

Notes: Written in a drabble chat. Someone wanted this pairing and this is the only way I could think of to do it.

Dance  
by Fairady

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It s not right. Ellone thinks she should stop it. Push Squall s hands away from her waist, step back as he pulls her forward, or even just tell him to stop. She s not fast enough though and she s caught as the first note is struck.

The floor is empty. All of the other dancers mill around the floor talking and laughing giving her nothing to look at but Squall. Nothing but his eyes that never seem to loose their intensity. Not even now when they re smiling down at her and breaking every bit of resolve she has.

It becomes easier and easier to forget about everything but the music and Squall. The music picks up and he pulls her closer to keep up. They spin and twirl using the empty floor to it s fullest, and Ellone just lets herself get caught up in the intricate steps of the dance.

The song ends though, and Ellone has to scramble for her lost composure and the easy smile that had gotten her through the day as Rinoa walks up. Pretty as a doll in wedding white she takes her husband back leaving Ellone to watch the newlyweds twirl away.

When Ellone cries afterwards the people around her smile at how easily moved the Commander's sister is.

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	6. Orphans

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: None.

Notes: Written in a drabble chat. Irvine isn't as hard to write as I thought he would be.

New Blood  
by Fairady

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War orphans. Matron had called them that, and growing up Irvine had just sort of assumed everyone else was the same. When he was adopted it just never occurred to him to think otherwise. He remembers being honestly shocked when his roommate told him otherwise, because it was a basic fact of life that he'd taken for granted. His roommate hadn't let him live it down.

Irvine tilts his hat up and watches a group of kids march through Galbadia Garden in a line. They're all young and have nothing more than a bag. The new generation of war orphans is even larger than Irvine's. There aren't enough orphanages or willing foster parents to take them all in, so Garden has lowered their age criteria.

It's a move that has put many politicians and rights groups on a rampage, but none of them have any other alternative for the kids. Irvine tilts his hat back down and wonders how many of them think this is normal. It keeps him from wondering how many of them he is responsible for.

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	7. Diplomacy

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: Crossover, crack.

Notes: Written for a crossover drabble challenge. It's not the first time I've crossed these two characters, which practically makes them an OTP(-ish) for me. The other drabble was put in with my Naruto drabble series so this one gets to go with my FFVIII series. Just to make things even.

Diplomacy  
by Fairady

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"Huh," Kankurou considered the mechanical monstrosity before him. The logistics of keeping it running were probably a nightmare, but the increase in defense and revenue would more than make up for it. He had to admit that he was a bit impressed by this floating garden.

He just wasn't as impressed by it as he was by the blonde bombshell who'd given the Kazekage's delegation a restricted tour. "So you're mobile. That's gotta be good for business, right?"

"On occasion," SeeD Instructor Quistis Trepe answered the question promptly, and pointedly did not say anything more. Balamb had initiated the talks with Sunagakure, but neither side was pretending the other was anything but what they were. A business rival from whom their secrets must be closely guarded.

Kankurou grinned in a way that made Trepe's hand twitch toward her coiled whip. Now that was interesting, he was getting closer. Smirking, he tilted his head back far enough to look down his nose at her, "Now, now, that's doesn't really answer my question, Instructor."

Trepe gripped the handle of her weapon and, for a few moments, looked right through him. The moment passed quickly though, but Kankurou didn't mind. They had all day for him to continue to find all her buttons.

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	8. rorriM

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: What's the shelf-life for spoilers anyway? We're on the third console so I don't think it applies anymore.

Notes: Yes, I love playing with the point/counter-point things. And this series does have some rather interesting ways to play with it.

rorriM  
by Fairady

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Kiros felt like shaking. The field was littered with the remains of monsters the likes of which had sent the three of them on a rather long medical leave not too long ago. He felt like shaking but the hand that came up to tuck that one loose braid away was perfectly steady.

It was like he was watching everything from a distance as he stretched his arms out and rolled his neck, relieving muscles that had tightened up unexpectedly. Checking his weapons he reached- _Inside_ was the only way to explain it, touching something that shimmered and felt colder than what he imagined death would feel like. It made the warmth that spread through his body moments latter that little bit more agonizing.

The Cure spell was already painful enough. Forced cures were always painful, hence why the Army preferred to allow its soldier to heal naturally. Kiros didn't so much as gasp, though he wanted to, as his skin was forcefully sealed shut. The pain was there, but he was distracted from it by a litany of information. Regulations that had nothing to do with his Army, names he didn't know, and lists of ingredients that he instinctively knew were dangerous when combined.

The adrenaline was ebbing, and with it Kiros felt himself more in control of his body. Before he could take over completely he turned to his friends and cast Cures on them as well. Ward grimaced uncharacteristically, but took it without complaint. Laguna stood perfectly still and silent, not even flinching as the large gash in his side shut.

Kiros blinked at his friends, hand still extended in the gesture to cast. They looked back, every bit as uncertain as himself. Kiros let his hand lower noticing that it was shaking.

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	9. Mirror

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: What's the shelf-life for spoilers anyway? We're on the third console so I don't think it applies anymore.

Notes: Yes, I love playing with the point/counter-point things. And this series does have some rather interesting ways to play with it.

Mirror  
by Fairady

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Quistis felt like sighing. The field was littered with the smashed and pulped remains of a few monsters that made _Grats_ seem positively lethal in comparison. One hand automatically rose to tuck away a few annoyingly loose strands of hair.

Still high on adrenaline, everything seemed clear and sharply focused as she stretched her arms out and rolled her neck, relieving the kinks that always built up in battle. Checking her weapon over for damage she drew a Cure and cast it upon herself. The wounds were minor, but as long as she had a steady stock of Cures there was no reason for her to allow herself to be slowed by a few scratches that might become something worse.

She felt her skin twitch and crawl as it mended leaving her with the urge to scratch herself all over. She concentrated on reciting the Regs for filling out sick leave, alphabetized her class roster, and even listed the ingredients to Selphie's Molotov Special. It helped to take her mind off of the pressing urge to scratch at the still closing cuts.

The Cure helped to get rid of some of her adrenaline, getting her off that knifes edge of awareness. She turned towards her companions as the last of the cuts faded and cast Cures on them as well. Zell grimaced, but held still long enough for the spell to sink in and begin to repair him. Squall stood perfectly still, not even acknowledging that the spell had been cast.

Quistis nodded at her team, hand still extended. They both nodded back, and Zell grinned his thanks. Quistis dropped her hand onto the handle of her weapon and turned to press on.

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	10. Clinical

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the chracters or game FFVIII. The rights, money, and souls of millions of gamers rightfully belong to The Square. I kneel before them and beg forgiveness.

Warning: None

Notes: I got nothing.

Clinical  
by fairady

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Kadowaki's day begins as it always does. With a cup of strong coffee, aching joints, and the bemused wonderings of what percentage of Garden will see her today. She guesses upward of eighty-five percent, and is almost correct. The actual number is higher, but that does not surprise her, it always is.

She's only forty some odd years old, but she always feels impossibly older than her years. How can she not when, now that Cid had retired, the closest person to her own age in Garden is a twenty-five year old mechanic who'd never gotten past calling her Miss?

She is surrounded by children. Occasionally -mostly when a tiny and frail looking child comes to her covered in blood and bruises- she just wants to grab the nearest, least injured one and shake some sense into them. She wants to say, "For the love of Hyne, you're a child! Go back home and play with your toys! Leave this life of war and death to the adults!"

The urge only happens along occasionally, and it never lasts longer than a single look into the eyes of whatever child had prompted the feeling to emerge. All it takes is one look to remind her that while she is surrounded by children, they aren't normal ones by any stretch of the imagination.

Garden is filled with the wayward offspring of War and Death. They were born years older than any child had a right to be. Not a single one of them has a home to go back to, and the only toys they've ever had were the ones that broke bones and sliced flesh. It was only fitting, she thought to herself sometimes, that these children of the wars adults had made were so much more terrifying than anything the old generals could have imagined.

The knowledge stays her impulse to make them see reason long enough to cast a few cures and wrap a few bandages around the wounded who rarely flinch back in pain anymore. It does nothing to keep her from feeling absolutely ancient as the parade of injured come to her office. Some a little older, most a little younger.

Kadowaki's day ends as it always does. With a cup of strong tea, aching joints, and the vague wonderings of how many of the children she had not seen that day were still alive. She can guess, but she knows that the number will always be lower.

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	11. Spotter

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't make money. Best pay heed to the Square for that.

Warning: None

Notes: Once I was made to go through a training mock-up to try to find a sniper. We found his spotter and failed the mock mission since the sniper was free to take out his targets. Not sure how that turned to this though.

Marksman and Spotter  
by Fairady

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The enemy knows her position.

Quistis could see it in their careful movements. The stiffened posture of the pointman, the way all of them look everywhere but right at her, and the not so subtle movement as the rear broke off to flank her.

They're terrorists with goals that change on a whim, and a deadly love of explosives. But they aren't forest men. Quistis doesn't need to look away from the main group to track the men clumsily hunting her down. Getting away from them would be ridiculously easy. She didn't move though. Grav, the mastermind behind them all, still hasn't shown up.

_When attacking a group a SeeD must destroy the leader first._

Branches snap and feet crunch through the accumulated mulch. She's only minutes away from being found. Forest men these terrorists are not, but she has to give them some credit. The four man team sent before her had been annihilated by them after all. Their heads had also been thoughtfully sent back to Garden in a box.

Quistis can hear breathing now, but still she won't move. Through her binoculars she can see another group of men arriving.

_A SeeD must do everything in their power to complete the mission._

A hard barrel kisses the skin behind her ear just as she finally identifies the target. The man behind her barks, "Don't move!"

Quistis lowers the binos and murmurs, just loud enough for the mike to catch her words, "From the east, with the vest."

Static crackles in her ear and she hears Irvine's slow drawl, "Got 'im."

"Hands where I can see them, or you're dead!" There's a click and rattling clank. The safety and a round. The same sounds the first SeeD team had heard last.

_The completion of the mission is more important than even the SeeD._

Three of those SeeD had once called her Instructor. Quistis smiles as she says, "Fire."

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Quistis runs the water until blood stops swirling down the drain. She has to put her dirty and torn clothes right back on, but she feels better about it. Almost better enough to face the call she has to make to her superiors. The report of failure she will have to give them. How her sniper failed the mission just to save her life.

She doesn't think that she'll ever feel good enough to have to report that.

Out in the tiny room the run down inn had let them, Irvine lounges across the only bed. Hat tilted over his eyes until she closes the bathroom door. One hand lazily tips the brim up.

"Called the report in. We're on standby," Irvine doesn't apologize, and from the stubborn lines set around his eyes she knows he never will.

_A SeeD never stops until the mission is complete. A SeeD never endangers a mission for personal reasons. A SeeD is expendable when the circumstances call for it. A SeeD-_

Quistis plops down beside Irvine, exhaustion and a nice headache helping to silence her thoughts. She lets her head fall on his chest and whispers, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for somethin' like that, Quisy," Irvine takes a deep, shuddering breath and buries one hand in her hair. "Don't ever-"

The next breath sounds like it almost might be a sob, but Irvine doesn't cry. Quistis curls up as close as she dares, her face pressed against his shirt suspiciously hot, but she doesn't cry either.

_A SeeD never cries._

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	12. Depth

Disclaimer: I own these characters. Not. I'd offer my soul for them, but I don't think that would be enough.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Pure speculation on my part. Plus some general observations on having to walk around with only one eye for a while. It's really not that bad, but it was always the little stuff that tripped me up.

Depth  
by Fairady

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It wasn't noticeable at first. Fujin woke up and started her day as usual ignoring the lingering echoes of pain coming from her empty eye socket. She fumbled a bit in the bathroom using up more time than was usual to get a few simple tasks done. The blurriness and need to focus more was attributed to the pain medication the medics had given her. Fujin tossed the bottle away without a second thought. If they were going to hamper her like that, then she really didn't need them.

She walked right past the entry to the Quad, and had to turn back. With a headache already forming she met Seifer and Raijin ten minutes later than she'd ever been before. Neither man said a word about it and they continued on with their normal routine. A quick sweep of some of the more popular make-out areas before heading to the cafeteria.

Fujin was only just starting to think that throwing away the pain medication might have been a rash idea when the change really became noticeable. She blinked dumbly down at her food and really _looked_ at it. There was no distance between her fork and her eggs, it looked like they were flat but she knew they weren't.

Seifer and Raijin continued to argue over something pointless as Fujin looked up to study the slowly filling room. It was barely noticeable until you knew what the problem was. Everything looked flatter. Dr. Kadowaki had told her to expect it, but the reality of it held nothing over three little words.

_No depth perception._

Fujin carefully set the fork back down. The pain in her head was from the strain she was putting on her one good eye. Trying to compensate for the loss.

She closed her eye and took a deep breath before opening it again.

Years of eating cafeteria food had some use after all. Fujin picked the fork up with little effort and scooped some eggs up. Muscle memory she hadn't noticed before got her in the vicinity of the lump she was aiming for. It took more effort and concentration than usual, but eventually Fujin managed to spear some eggs and maneuver it to her mouth.

It wasn't anything that she couldn't overcome. Eventually.

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	13. Expecting

Disclaimer: I own not. Square does.

Warnings: Crack and more crack.

Notes: Meme. "What would happen if 12 got 8 pregnant?" The answer: I would die of laughter much like Freya. The two crossover guests here are Squall and Rinoa from FF8.

Pink or Blue?  
by Fairady

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The rat was begging to be hurt.

Freya was nothing more than a red ball of cloth and snickers in the corner. Amarant shot a glare her way from over his- Hell, he didn't know what drink number he was on anymore. Whatever the number, it wasn't high enough for him to deal with this shit yet.

Amarant downed the mug and shoved it back across the counter to be filled. While that was being done he took the opportunity to properly glare at the rat.

Freya wheezed, one hand smacking the ground as tiny beads of tears rolled down her face.

"Bitch!" Amarant turned at the clink and chugged the mug. Pure fire blazed a line straight from his throat to his stomach. He coughed once before shoving the mug back to the bewildered bartender. "More o' that. Hell, gimme the whole damn bottle!"

"I'm so incredibly sorry!" The dark haired girl said. Again. She was averaging an apology for every mug Amarant managed to down. "I didn't mean to-"

"Shut up!" Amarant reached across the bar and _took_ the bottle from the barkeep. The man wisely said nothing after one fierce glare from Amarant. He brought the bottle up and managed to suck down a quarter of it before having to stop and cough the fire from his lungs. Whatever it was, it was seriously good shit.

"If I knew the spell was going to-"

"Shut up!" Amarant whirled on the witchy girl who quailed before him. She really was sorry, and was beating herself up good for what she'd done. Doing a much better job than Amarant could anyway. That's why he wasn't killing her. It wasn't that she looked too much like Dagger. Nope, not at all. "Just, don't talk."

The girl nodded wildly, making a big commotion as she waved the barkeep back. Trying her best to indicate, without speaking, that the bottle Amarant had taken should be put on her tab too. Just like every other drink he'd downed so far. Maybe he shouldn't've told her to keep her yap shut. She was more annoying now.

"..." Amarant was going to take back his last words when a hollow thunk drew his attention past the girl. Her boy still looked like he was in pain. Head planted firmly on the counter and both hands gripping it tightly. As he watched the guy turned one agonized gaze towards the girl. "You got him pregnant!"

The girl froze, hands fluttering over another bottle she was attempting to pay for. The bartender's eyes went wide. A fresh bought of laughter erupted from Freya in the corner. Amarant felt his temper boil over -again- and carefully put the bottle down.

The little witch was safe from Amarant, but the leather-clad boy who followed her most certainly wasn't. It was with a sense of extreme relief that Amarant reached over the girl and punched the boy.

Freya laughed and laughed and laughed.

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	14. Sacrifice

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Final Fantasy VII or Hellraiser. I'd be quite content with my life if I did.

Warnings: Crossover crack, and the dark possibility you always get from Hellraiser.

Notes: Drabble for an icon challenge, the two icons were of Quistis and Pinhead. Once again I have proven -to myself at least- that Quistis is like a little black dress, she can go well with just about anyone.

Cry Sacrifice  
by Fairady

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Quistis was in trouble.

Her client lay strewn about the room in heaps of viscera and strips of bloody flesh. Well beyond the help of any medical or magical means of saving. He'd died in the three minutes and fifteen seconds it took her to break down the door. The man responsible for the death of her client regarded her calmly from across the room.

"Oh," Quistis gasped and took one involuntary step back under that gaze.

The man glided forward, moving with an unnatural grace. Ink black eyes fixed on her. Without thinking Quistis sent her whip cracking out, the sharp steel tips cutting across his face. Cutting deep into those black eyes that peered right into her soul and closing them. He didn't even flinch. Corpse pale fingers of one hand reached up and touched the blood dripping slowly down his face. The other hand held her whip in a tight grip she couldn't tug free of.

"Exquisite," One word, said in a voice rich in darkness that sent a jolt of pure fear up her spine.

Quistis didn't move as the man wrapped the barbed tips of her whip around his hand. Pulling tight enough to anchor them in the flesh and drawing more of the strange blue blood that filled his veins. Didn't move as he stepped directly in front of her, towering over her. Didn't move as an impossibly cold hand drew a line down her cheek in blue and red blood.  
"You will learn so much from us," he purred, a promise filled with darkness.

She was beyond trouble.

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	15. Incident

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Final Fantasy VIII. Sad I know.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Written for the ffviii_100 IJ community prompt of Broken. I always wanted to write about the incident with Zell crashing into the women's restroom that Quistis hinted at in game.

That Incident  
by Fairady

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Zell's way-too-expensive board was destroyed. It lay on the ground in little tiny pieces that would never be repaired again. Kinda like the door he'd blown through, oh, and his ego too. Couldn't forget the ego. Or his masculine pride.

Instructor Trepe's eyebrow arched higher as the last of the shrieks gave way to girlish giggles. She looked intimidating and dangerous even when wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe with toothpaste foam still clinging to the corner of her mouth. "What do you think you're doing, cadet?"

Zell whimpered praying his balls wouldn't be the next thing to be broken.

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	16. Amnesiatic

Disclaimer: I don't own these character or make money off of this.

Warnings: Experimental.

Notes: Just an experiment with Seifer's POV and the way GFs screw with memory.

Amnesiatic  
by Fairady

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Seifer likes to think of it like this:

A beach at night.

Moonlight playing along the waves and making the sand glow as much as the sun ever did. There's salt in the air and he's chasing a blonde whose hair and dress ripple as she runs. They're both bare footed and laughing. Sand flies as he catches her around the waist spinning them both down into the sand.

She's small and delicate in his arms but her blue eyes glow brighter than the moon and he has to kiss her then. Again and again until they're both too breathless to laugh. His hands are bolder than ever before but it is hers that touch skin first. And they're laughing again with all the awkward shyness of teenagers.

He strips himself boldly hoping the action would distract her from the way his face heats. It does. Right up until her small hands shyly pull her dress up and off and then he's too focused on her skin to notice anything else.

She laughs uncertainly, he kisses clumsily, they both touch skin that has never been touched before. They fumble neither wanting to admit they don't know what they're doing. There's pain and discomfort and then just sweetness as they somehow shuffle past their virginity.

It's a sweet memory. Something to take out and examine later in life when the sex has become less self-conscious and better. When the years of experience have induced a jaded cynicism. It's a memory to take out then and cherish for it's simplicity.

But only if it were a true memory.

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This is how it went:

A beach during the day.

The sun catches the sand and sets it on fire, it's too much to look at but he won't have to worry about that for long. He sits on the steps with two bags and a silent brunette next to him.

They sit there and watch the paperwork get signed, the document exchange hands, and the man to salute before walking out. Military precision in his steps as he walks to the new recruits.

He knows there will be no more beaches in his future. No days to see and no nights to wish were real, because they are the last ones to leave and the blonde girl had left long before this soldier had come. Had gone somewhere far away from the place they will be going. As they get into the car to leave he wishes he had just one more night on the beach to wish he might find her somewhere else.

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This is what he wants:

Her name. Seifer just wishes he could remember her _name._

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	17. Failure

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Just me musing on the events leading up to the Timber incident, because Quistis really wasn't prepared for a fight when you get her. So, thoughts on why came out. Nothing more.

Failure  
by Fairady

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Quistis gently probed her aching jaw. The area was tender and slightly swollen, but it wasn't bad enough to waste any potions on. Seifer had never been the type to think clearly through his anger. His punches had been more like a wild tantrum than the accurate and disabling blows he was supposedly trained to use. She was torn between being thankful and wanting to put in a recommendation for remedial hand to hand combat training.

The mirror showed her skin was darkening as a rather promising bruise developed. Quistis frowned and reconsidered her earlier thoughts before reaching for a potion. The swelling was just noticeable enough, and when she confronted Seifer in the detention room again she didn't want to give him anything to be smug about. He was hard enough to handle as it was.

The harsh ring of her phone distracted her from the warmth of the potion spreading. She barely had it to her ear before Xu's voice said, "Almasy assaulted the guards, he's gone."

The line clicked and went dead, Quistis didn't need any more information though. She could already fill in what Xu had not said, and was running through the halls within a few seconds. She spared a moment to think about picking up a GF and some magic, but struck the thought knowing that the process would take too long and she'd lose Seifer.

It's a monumentally stupid move, the reasoning side of her mind is compelled to point out. Seifer had never made it a secret that he didn't like her, especially within the past few months, and he'd already shown his willingness to harm SeeDs. He'd even already attacked her. Going after him with only her weapon could be a deadly move on her part. Quistis has become used to ignoring that little voice when dealing with her students though.

_Former students_, she pushed the twinge away, this was no time to deal with that.

A crowd gathered around the detention room forcing her to dodge or plow over the gawkers. As she sped by she could see one man being lifted onto a stretcher, and the door to the room broken cleanly at the lock. It would have to have been tampered with before hand to break that cleanly. How long before and by whom were unimportant for now.

Quistis ignored the calls of the faculty. A team of SeeD were already analyzing the room, and another was no doubt ransacking Seifer's dorm. She knew the procedure, lock down the Garden and conduct a search from inside out to ensure nothing is missed. The procedure is well thought out, and in most cases would have the errant student caught within an hour.

Seifer isn't a normal student though. He knows the procedures for one thing and it strikes her now that he hadn't had his weapon with him when he was taken to the disciplinary room. Quistis has never seen him without his gunblade before, she wonders why she hadn't caught it before. Seifer planned this breakout long before he started acting up. The standard procedures won't catch him, by the time SeeD make their way out of Garden he'll be long gone.

"Garden is being locked down," the announcement chimes over the PA making her lean into her sprint.

She already knows where he is going. His fit over the team sent to Timber had been loud and clear before the SeeD escort had been able to toss him into detention. She knows the strategies Seifer favors. Bold actions with precisely measured windows of opportunity that can be counted in seconds. There is no doubt in her mind that he'll be in Timber long before the bureaucracy of Garden issues orders to pursue. The only person who had any chance of bringing him back was her.

Quistis repeats the reasoning as she hurdles over the turnstiles, and breaks so many of the rules taught to her. There is no other way. When this was over she would talk to the Headmaster, Cid would understand even if no one else would.

She jumps the wall of the entrance way taking to the hills without pausing. It's a more direct path to Balamb than the road, but it exposes her to more monsters which is no problem with her speed. She hopes he decided to stick with the road as it should make up for most of the headway he has on her.

Minutes blur by as she outruns monsters and fights the mud that wants to cling to her boots. The walls of Balamb are a welcome sight and she pushes herself faster. She doesn't see him on the main street which means he must have had more of a head start than she first thought. The sudden piercing shriek of a whistle jolts her and she rushes past the conductor thankful her instructor's pass will be current for another day.

The train jolts to life under her feet making her stumble as she enters the passenger cars. Few people are in the public cars and she quickly moves back to the private ones. A businessman and a newly wedded couple protest her barging in, but Seifer isn't to be found. It's impossible but she continues to the private SeeD car, using her ID to open it. The car is empty, and Quistis stares in blankly still breathing harshly.

Damn it, she outran him. The next train to Timber shouldn't leave for another hour, it's plenty of time for SeeD members to be sent to the station if the Headmaster can be convinced to mobilize without orders. Quistis wipes the sweat off her face and steps back heading further down to the communication room. If she can get through to him the Headmaster would listen, she knows that. Quistis steps through the door and is caught off guard by the hard shove that sends her slamming into the window.

"You look a little flushed Instructor," Seifer grins impudently as he steps into the hall. "Did you run all the way out here to see me off?"

"Seifer," Quistis coughs getting her breath back and slides down the hall trying to get more space. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking a vacation," he matches her steps, effectively preventing them both from drawing their weapons in the tight space. No problem for him, unarmed he holds all the natural advantages. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Listen to me," Quistis straightens up. "You can't do this, disciplinary measures will be taken for your actions so far, but if you interfere with the Timber team's mission in any way they're going to kick you out."

"Kick me out," Seifer laughs, his face drawn tight with anger. "You think I care anymore? You know how much work it took just to get a contract for them? All Garden cares about is money! They needed our _help_ and Garden just kept denying them, and when they finally do give them help all they send are three inexperienced rookies!"

"And what are you going to do!" Quistis snaps back, reaching forward and fisting both hands in his coat pushing him back into the wall. "You have just as much experience as they do, do you honestly think your rushing in half-cocked is going to do any good?"

"Well it sure as hell can't make it worse!" Seifer snarls smacking her hands lose and shoving her back against the window.

Her head rattles as she hits the window, the extra lurch of the train taking a curve sends her sprawling as the floor seems to slip from under her. The jarring impact helps clear her mind though, and for the first time since Xu's call she _thought_ instead of reacted.

Seifer smirks down at her completely unruffled and guiltless. The tight hall won't allow him to use his gunblade, but he can easily negate her weapon by simply closing in and throwing her around. He's junctioned too, as close as they are she can feel the low thrum of magic in his blood. She has no GF and her Blue magic is useless if she wants to bring him back alive.

She's finally done it. Gotten herself into a situation that she can't get herself out of. Not that it matters. The rattling of the train tells her they've passed the point of returning to Garden. They're in the underwater tunnels now, and the train won't stop again until Timber.

It's another failure, and it tastes bitter on her tongue.

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	18. Homesick

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Food is the worst thing, just the imagined smell can make you horribly homesick at times.

Homesick  
by Fairady

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Seifer Almasy was held for six months by the Estharian government following his pardon. Whether or not he had been in control of his actions during the war didn't concern them at that point. What mattered was that Almasy was the only living being who knew the full extent of the atrocities committed by the sorceress and her various supporters. They wanted him to tell it all, to give them names and places.

He refused for a month before they told him he would not leave the country before giving them the information they wanted. Almasy spent the next five months silent, ignoring everything directed towards him.

On the sixth month of his detainment Balamb Garden docked at Esthar and -upon request from the President- an Elite SeeD member was sent.

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Quistis Trepe walked into the interrogation room with a bowl, a bag, and two cans of coffee. The bowl and cans were placed in the middle of the table and she sat down across from Almasy fiddling with the bag. It ripped and she poured the contents into the bowl.

Fresh almonds filled the bowl to the brim. Trepe ate one and opened a can of iced coffee. She didn't speak or even look at Almasy who refused to touch the bowl and the other can. Three hours passed before the bowl was empty. Trepe gathered everything back up and left. Still without a word having been said.

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The next day Trepe came back with a bowl, two bags, two cans of coffee, and a thermos. The extra bag proved to have fresh chocolate chip cookies in it, and the thermos was filled with hot chocolate. Almasy watched wordlessly as she sat and ate it all. Five hours passed before she left.

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When she came back the next day she added a tin of brownies and a jug of cold chocolate milk. She set them out meticulously, almost in the exact same placing as the previous days. Almasy watched her carefully pick up a square brownie which fell apart despite her care.

"You keep eating like that and you'll get fat," Seifer said finally breaking the silence.

Quistis brushed some of the crumbs off the table before pushing the tin closer to him, "Then help me eat it."

It was utterly ridiculous. He didn't know what she was trying to do but the simple words made his breath seize in his lungs. Seifer closed his eyes and pushed back from the table suddenly not wanting to see the food, but he was helpless against the smell. Warm and familiar because- because of course Matron would want to make sure Seifer got some of his favorite treats.

"Seifer," Quistis was suddenly there. Arms slipping around his back as she knelt in front of him. Blue eyes probably looking at him with that _look_ that she'd learned from Matron. The one that's gentle and understanding, the one that begs you to tell them everything.

Seifer keeps his eyes shut, his words a bare whisper, "I want to go home."

"We want you to come home," she said just as softly.

He didn't cry or sob or breakdown. It felt like he had though. She held him tightly not letting go even when he began to talk.

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	19. Life

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: Suicide in a way.

Notes: I tend to let certain characters carry certain spells, and that led to me to wonder if there might not be a reason why they'd do it in game.

Life  
by Fairady

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Life wasn't a standard SeeD spell. It could be stocked, it made a fantastic enhancer, but it couldn't be cast without the proper permits. In order to cast Life Quistis had to write a justification, take a special course, and pass a practical exam.

It was a tricky spell that required exact timing. Life would only take hold at the exact moment of death, not a moment before and not a moment after. If the cast was the slightest bit off the spell would be wasted and the person would stay dead. The remnants of the failed spell rendering even Phoenix Downs useless.

Phoenix Downs were better in the long run for SeeD. They were cheaper and the margin of error for their use was far more forgiving. Get the potion in the person within two minutes and the potion would do the rest. It was hard to carry the clunky bottles, but Garden deemed it an acceptable inconvenience.

The real problem with them was that Phoenix Downs only had a 73% chance of working. Even when correctly administered there was still that slight chance that it would fail. Life, if done right, stood at a 100% success rate. It also restored more health, left fewer scars, and studies had shown it was better for long term health.

That was reason enough for Quistis to work hard to obtain the necessary permits.

The permits aren't the only thing she was left with though. She has two nigh invisible scars running the length of her forearms. She made them herself with a razor sharp knife. The memory of that day, the practical exam, will always be as vivid to her as the days she obtained SeeD and Instructor.

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Her heart beats impossibly fast. Adrenaline putting her on edge as her body instinctually prepares for battle, to get away from the danger. She fights it down to bring the knife up and purposefully inflict harm on herself. It's a shock how quickly her skin opens up under the blade. A gaping wound that doesn't hurt or bleed at first. Making her stare at it in dumb fascination. The sudden welling of bright blood shocks her more than the sudden pain of it and she fumbles as she quickly opens up her other arm with trembling fingers.

Then she lays back and stares up at the bright lights. Doing her best to ignore the clinical stares of her partner and the Instructor, the way her breathing seems to be the only sound in the room, the slick warmth of her own blood running down her arms and soaking into her uniform. Swallowing thickly she tries to focus on her heart beat. To count the beats to calm herself, but for once it eludes her.

Ice slowly creeps up from her fingers to her arms. Spreading in a wave that negates any warmth she feels from the blood. The blood that is spreading out in an ever widening pool around her soaking into the jacket she'd folded up and carefully placed out of the way.

Quistis blinks and wrenches her gaze back to the lights, not sure when she'd looked away. Her breathing picks up again. Labored gasps that she has no control of. Her body starved of oxygen tries to make up for it with deeper, quicker breaths. The lights are blinding in their brightness and she squints against them. Feeling tears prick her eyes at the pain of it. At the pain and icy coldness of it all.

Panicking she reaches for the potions lined up right beside her. Her arm raises half an inch from the floor and thumps back down. It takes all her effort to turn her head to look and see it. The slowly trickling blood and twitching fingers that refuse to co-operate no matter how she struggles.

Quistis realizes she's dying, that she is going to _die_. Her vision going dark or blank as she suffocates under the lack of air. She closes her eyes and sees nothing different as her awareness fades.

She's gone and doesn't even know it until fire sweeps through her body. Jolting her back to awareness and life with a sensation that is and isn't painful. She gasps. Tastes the circulated air and the iron tang of blood on each breath, and thinks it's the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.

She shivers and tries to remember this moment. The seconds she spent on the edge of life and death slipping away from her with each passing minute. Swallowed up by the scratch of a pen against a board as the Instructor carefully examines her. Giving her time to gather herself.

"Good," he finally looks up. Giving her partner a curt nod, and handing her the bloody knife. "Again."

Quistis trembles as she holds the knife. Fingers slipping in the tacky blood that stains it. Repeating all the lessons she's memorized for this.

Because casting is the easy half of the course objectives. Anyone can cast. It takes a unique perspective to cast Life though. One that is only gained from death. From the experience of dying.

Quistis brings the knife up and does it again.

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	20. Four

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: Violence.

Notes: Just random thoughts about weapons and how you could really use a whip.

Four  
by Fairady

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A whip can kill in one of four ways.

It can break bones. The fragile bones in the neck, the vulnerable areas of the skull, or even the ribs around the lungs for an extra slow death. Quistis favors the neck bones. One snap of her wrist sends the whip out, a double crack that is always quick and clean. The skull is harder and usually requires one of her heavier whips. One with a significant weight on the end that can smash through bone with the force of her swing. Two or three times sometimes depending on her aim. The ribs are something she knows how to do, but has employed in battle only once. It took all of her strength and the augmentation of Ifrit to do it. Not the most effective tactic in her arsenal.

It can slice flesh. Lay open veins that bleed out quickly in battle. Quistis has several whips with a variety of blades on them. Each one uniquely suited to a certain type of enemy. A razor thin blade for soldiers. Sharp and thin enough to reach through the gaps in their armor. A series of serrated hooks for monsters that can catch on their thick hide and drag bloody swaths open.

A whip can also be poisoned. A thin film of fast or slow acting poison on the tip or a special blade is all that's needed. Just one hit and then she can move on quickly. One cut is all that's needed to get the poison into the system. The hardest part of poison is remembering not to touch the poisoned bits. To keep her hands clear of that tiny barb as she coils the whip back up in a single motion that's been instinctual since she was fifteen.

The last method is a last resort and she only uses it in desperation, strangulation. It's awkward and almost impossible to strangle an opponent from a distance. The time it takes to do it is too long and gives them plenty of time to escape the whip. She has to get in close to do it properly. Within arms reach, which negates the practicality of having a ranged weapon, close enough to wrap the whip around their throat and _pull_. Close enough to put a knee in their back or chest as they thrash about. Feeling them fight her in every pull and burning strain of the muscles up her arms, along her shoulders, and down her back. Listening for that last futile gasp and shudder that means it's all over.

Four ways to die, and Quistis has used each one of them in the past hour. She lets the corpse fall at her feet unwinding her weapon from the boy's neck as she quickly surveys the halls. They've turned the tide of battle finally. Galbadia Garden's forces are being pushed out of Balamb Garden as students fight students in a clash that's hard to make sense of. Only the cut and color of uniforms distinguishing who is on which side.

The moment is over almost before she can comprehend the turn in the tide. A group of Galbadian students charge at her. Barely old enough to be cadets but still wielding their weapons with a willingness that Quistis meets with a double crack of her whip.

Four ways to kill is all she's ever needed.

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	21. Weakness

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Most people have it.

Weakness  
by Fairady

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Quistis didn't mean to slip up.

It wasn't her fault though. That was all Irvine, who through some convoluted form of logic thought the fastest way to get the files they needed from the top shelf was to hoist _her_ up into the air to grab them. Which would have been a better plan if he'd _informed _her of it before reaching over and grabbing her around the waist. His broad fingers digging into her sides just enough to draw a startled sound out of her that made him drop her as quickly as he'd picked her up.

Irvine stared at her with wide eyes. Disbelief already fading into warm amusement that turned mischievous as she watched. "Why, Quistis, I never even _suspected_."

"Irvine," the warning came out sharp but just a little too high pitched, giving away her anxiety. She knew the sniper far too well to believe he would allow this new-found weakness to be dropped. Her arms crossed tightly around her stomach, blocking any further attempt to reach it. "Don't you _dare_."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Irvine said with a smile that no one in their right frame of mind would ever trust. He advanced on her slowly, fingers flexing as he looked for a hole in her defenses.

"Irvine-" Quistis said as she backed away. Not letting herself get cornered in the cluttered room, and trying to maneuver her way towards the door.

Irvine wasn't having it though. He stepped neatly to the side, putting himself between her and freedom while still advancing. A gleam entering his eyes as she dropped her hands to take a more offensive stance. Defense would get her nowhere in this situation. Her only hope was to attack.

"Don't think I won't hurt you," Quistis said in a low, even voice as Irvine came within arms reach. She met his eyes with a hard glare that did nothing to deter him. "I will, Irvine. I'll do it!"

"Now, now, Quistis," Irvine began one hand moving in an airy gesture she'd seen him use on feral chocobos. She refused to follow it's movement. Keeping her gaze focused on the other hand which was still poised and ready to strike. "No need to be so violent."

Quistis snorted, crouching down slightly and leaning forward to protect her core more.

"There will be no violence if you-" Quistis broke off with a shriek as Irvine darted forward. Faster than she was anticipating. One hand blocked the automatic punch she threw and he turned to take the brunt of her knee on his outer thigh. His unoccupied hand went straight for it's target. Fingers skittering over her stomach like a spider as he tickled her.

Quistis gasped and doubled over immediately. Which only trapped Irvine's hand and freed his other to reach her sensitive sides. Quistis thrashed and slapped at it as she choked on a combination of squeals and laughter. "Stop! Please, Irvine, don't!"

Irvine was merciless though. His rich laugh echoed along with hers as he wrestled her to the ground. Both hands finding and exploiting her ticklish spots until Quistis was nothing more than a teary eyed wreck of laughter. He didn't let up until she was nearly sore from it.

"I will kill you," Quistis said, panting and exhausted, "if you tell a single soul about this."

"I'm a gentleman, Quissy," Irvine winked and tipped his hat down at her. "I don't kiss and tell."

She aimed a solid kick to his shins and chuckled as he cursed and hopped backwards.

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End file.
